I 


GENEVIEVE  FARNELL-BOND 


ty-irr**-      jnr    fO     U  , 


• 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/faunotherpoemsOOfarniala 


The    Faun 

and  other 

Poems 


BY 
GENEVIEVE   FARNELL-BOND 


BOSTON 

SHERMAN,  FRENCH  £  COMPANY 

1913 


Copyright,  1913 
Sherman,  French  6»  Company 


SRLF. 
URL 


o<-/iozir^/ 


DEDICATION 

There  is  a  somewhat  in  the  souls  of  men 

That  urges  them  to  consummate  their  deed — 

To  struggle  on  and  on,  unheeding  when 

They  meet  with  failure,  or  mayhap  succeed. 

It  may  not  matter  though  the  way  be  long, 
Or  if  we  go  alone  unto  the  close — 

There  is  one  thought  to  bid  the  heart  be  strong: 
Somewhere  along  the  path  is  one  who  knows. 


A  WORD  AT  THE  BEGINNING 

My  old-time  friend,  Genevieve  Farnell-Bond, 
whom  I  have  known  well  as  a  free-lance  of  the 
pen,  journalist  and  editor,  brings  me  her  first 
book  of  verse  for  a  word  of  introduction. 

Perhaps  I  might  say  that  a  book  of  poems 
needs  no  introduction:  for  poetry  carries  its 
own  passport  to  the  heart.  Perhaps  some  may 
say  that  we  already  have  enough  books  of 
poems — that  this  is  an  age  of  science  and  not 
of  song — that  it  is  a  time  for  dollars  and  not 
for  dreams.  But  this  is  only  the  wisdom  of 
the  foolish.  For  the  soul  of  man,  like  the  dry 
earth,  needs  renewing  from  time  to  time.  Po- 
etry comes  as  an  April  rain  of  the  spirit,  to 
call  out  new  blade  and  blossom,  to  keep  alive 
in  man  the  sense  of  youth,  the  feeling  of  morn- 
ing and  romance. 

So  we  welcome  this  new  poet,  with  her  shallop 
of  song  that  lifts  its  sail  to  take  the  winds  of 
fortune.  May  it  find  summer  seas  and  quiet 
havens,  where  the  warm  wind 

"Trembles  across  the  harp  of  greening  boughs." 


In  this  freight  of  song  there  is  nothing  that 
pleases  me  more  than  "The  Faun."  Such  a 
passage  as  this  has  in  it  an  echo  of  the  voices 
of  the  morning: 

Sometimes  you  hear  me  in  the  dawn — 
The  little-horned,  fleet-footed  faun: 
You'll  see  a  ripple  as  I  pass 
And  shake  the  dew-pearls  from  the  grass, 
A  shadow  through  the  gray  morass, 
So  quickly  gone. 

And  when  the  gold-god  of  the  day 
Comes  wheeling  up  the  azure  way, 
Sometimes  I  pipe  on  flutes  of  Pan 
To  stir  his  droil  soul  if  I  can 
With  sweet  dismay. 

Edwin  Markham. 

West  New  Brighton, 
New  York. 


Many  of  these  poems  have  appeared 
in  The  Cosmopolitan,  Harper's  Bazar, 
The  New  York  Herald,  The  New  York 
American,  The  Los  Angeles  Times, 
The  Cincinnati  Commercial  Tribune, 
Hesperian  Tree  and  other  publications. 
The  poem  from  which  the  volume  takes 
its  name  was  one  of  a  hundred  by 
American  poets,  originally  selected  and 
published  for  the  first  time  in  "The 
Lyric  Year"  by  its  editor.  Thanks  are 
due  to  all  of  these  publications  for  per- 
mission to  republish. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Faun 1 

The  Star  Child 4 

A  Sea  Memory 5 

A  Lost  Song 10 

Prayer  in  Silence 11 

Birth 12 

Die   Walkure 18 

The    Source 15 

The  Paupered  Rich 16 

The  Master  Heart 17 

My  Bride  o'  May 19 

Love's   Keep 20 

Soul   Union 21 

Wind  op  the  Night 24 

Sensitive   Plants 25 

For  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox 26 

To  Robert  Burns 27 

To  One  Reading  from  Swinburne    ...  29 

Ballad  of   Lilies 30 

Mid-wood  Spirit 32 

The   Harbinger 33 

Ashes   of   Roses 35 

At  Valley  Forge 36 

The  Poet  Dead 37 


PAQE 

Thanksgiving 38 

At  the  Grave 39 

Risen 40 

The   Hunger 41 

A  Little  Lie 43 

The  Time  Has  Come 44 

The  Poor  Relation 45 

A  Spring  Memory 47 

Dame  Propriety 48 

A  Warning  Word 49 

Meeting  and  Parting 50 

In  Light  and  Shadow 51 

A  Kiss 52 

Valentine 53 

An   April   Way 54 

A  Child's  Kiss 55 

To  a  Child's  Soul 56 

The  Book    Spirits 57 

The  Awakening  of  Magdalene        ...  58 

White  Violets 61 

Supplication 63 

Renunciation 64 

The  City  of  the  Dead 66 

A  Rose-leaf's  Pressure .67 

Paris,  Good-bye 69 

After  the  Storm 70 


PAGE 

The  Soul  of  the  Snow 71 

Song 73 

Sonnet  to  a  Rose 75 

Moonlight  Villanelle 76 

Song  at  Night 77 

If  I  Should  Come 78 

Spirit  of  Fire 79 

Kiss  Me — You ! 80 

Love  Me  While  You  May 81 

The  Passionate  Song 82 

Shall  We  Discover? 83 

A  Maiden's  Heart 85 

Song  of  the  Coquette 86 

A  Climbing  Rose 88 

To  a  Shy  Swain 89 

Invocation  to  Love 90 

The  Holy  Grail 91 


THE  FAUN 

Sometimes  you  hear  me  in  the  dawn, 
The  little-horned,  fleet-footed  Faun; 
You  see  a  ripple  as  I  pass 
And  shake  the  dew-pearls  from  the  grass- 
A  shadow  through  the  gray  morass, 
So  quickly  gone. 

Lo,  when  the  first  faint-throated  note 

Of  feathered  songster  is  afloat, 
A  soft  call  on  the  silvered  air 
Will  tell  you  that  the  Faun  is  there 
To  lure  you  to  his  leafy  lair, 
Through  paths  remote. 

I  hide  to  watch  the  ruddy  sun 
Light  up  each  dew-globe,  one  by  one, 
Until,  with  opalescent  blaze, 
A-spangle  is  the  rosy  haze 
That  lies  along  the  wooded  ways 
Where  I  have  run. 

And  when  the  gold  god  of  the  day 
Comes  wheeling  up  the  azure  way, 
Sometimes  I  pipe  on  flutes  of  Pan 
Soft  pulsings  never  made  of  man, 
To  stir  his  droil  soul  if  I  can 
With  sweet  dismay. 


[1] 


One  day  I  lay  at  golden  noon 
With  calm  content  half  in  a  swoon — 
The  world  ablaze  with  brazen  heat 
Beyond  my  leafy,  green  retreat — 
But  here  the  brown  earth  cool  and  sweet, 
A- joy  with  June. 

And  then  she  came  ...  all  clad  in  white, 

Her  eyes  mysterious  as  night ; 

Her  lips  were  red  and  ripe  and  young, 
Her  hair  a  faint  gold  halo  flung ; 
About  her  all  the  fragrance  clung 
Of  youth's  delight. 

And  sinking  to  a  leafy  vale, 

She  sang  a  melancholy  tale: 

"Though  Love  has  never  come  to  me, 
To-morrow  I  a  wife  shall  be, 
The  church  all  sweet  with  melody 
And  roses  pale. 

"I  shall  have  wealth  and  brave  attire, 

And  all  the  people  will  admire! 

Though  he  be  what  the  world  calls  old, 
Though  callow  youth  may  term  him  cold, 
All  shall  be  bought  with  gleaming  gold 
In  my  desire." 


[2] 


Nimbly  I  blew  a  little  tune, 

And  trembling  stopped,  with  gentle  croon 
Until  the  maiden  fell  asleep, 
Lest  she  should  hear  me  slyly  creep 
Beside  her  in  the  grasses  deep  .   .   . 
And  then  eftsoon 

I  bent  me  to  her  shell-pink  ear, 
And  whispered  that  her  heart  might  hear: 
"Lo,  all  about  you  in  the  grass, 
In  every  cranny  that  you  pass, 
Is  greater  wealth  than  men  amass 
With  toil  and  tear — 

"Are  little  lovers,  two  by  two, 
With  hearts  that  sing  and  wildly  woo ! 
And  all  the  voices  of  the  trees 
Are  throbbing  with  Love's  rhapsodies ; 
And  these  alone  may  bring  heart's  ease 
To  such  as  you ! 

"From  far  the  lion  seeks  one  mate — 
He  calls  to  her  with  heart  elate ! 
And  to  your  lips  this  kiss  I  press 
That  waking  you  shall  know  no  less. 
Till  Love  comes  in  swift  eagerness 
I  bid  you  wait !" 


[3] 


THE  STAR  CHILD 

Blustering  winds  blow  out  of  the  West, 
Shaking  the  windows ;  away  in  the  night 
Glitters  Aldebaran's  far  ruddy  light. 
Clinging  and  curled  in  his  warm,  soft  nest, 
Close  to  a  love-laden,  brooding  breast, 
Peering  afar  at  that  star  all  bright, 
The  scion  of  numberless  aeons  lies — 
Yet  not  so  old  that  the  still  surprise 
Of  morning  has  fled  from  his  mystic  eyes. 

"I  lived  in  that  star  world,  in  ages  past, 
Before  you  were  mine,"  he  whispers ;  "But  cast 
My  love  through  the  silence,  seeking  you,  dear, 
Until  your  love  caught  me — lo,  I  am  here !" 


[4] 


A  SEA  MEMORY 

I  did  not  know — I  could  not  guess  it, 

My  flesh  was  young,  and  Earth  was  new ; 

My  soul,  confused,  would  not  confess  it, 
That  Love  had  come,  and  brought  me  You. 

And  yet  my  tears  rushed  up  in  wonder — 
Your  eyes  leapt  to  me  through  the  crowd, 

Drove  doubt  and  laws  and  lies  asunder, 
As  blade  of  sunlight  cleaves  a  cloud. 

The  silence  then  was  very  tender — 

How  could  we  speak  who  felt  so  much? 

For  Truth  had  naught  to  bar  nor  bend  her, 
Nor  to  disguise  her  mystic  touch. 

One  night  beside  the  sea,  low-singing, 
We  wandered,  and  the  little  stars 

Upon  her  shining  breast  were  swinging, 
And  love  and  life  might  have  been  ours — 

Our  own,  dear  Heart,  just  for  the  taking; 

We  leaned  and  laughed  with  clasping  hands, 
Love,  when  we  heard  the  wild  waves  breaking, 

Before  they  eddied  up  the  sands. 

Then  you  arose  in  sudden  glory, 

The  sea  surged,  circling,  at  your  feet, 

And  I   recalled  the  old-time  story, 
And  all  the  world  grew  still  and  sweet. 
[5] 


I  knew  then,  in  the  young  world's  splendor, 

In  ages  gone — with  pulsing  feet 
How  I  had  run,  all  wild  and  slencter, 

The  early  morning  sea  to  greet. 

And  when  into  her  salt  arms  springing 
I  swam,  lithe-limbed,  upon  her  breast, 

I  listened  to  her  strange  soft  singing, 
And  felt  her  heaving,  fierce  unrest. 

Then  leaping  from  the  waves,  all  shining, 
I  shook  the  sea-drops  from  my  hair, 

The  sea-weeds  'round  my  white  limbs  twining, 
I  turned,  and  saw  that  you  were  there. 

That  day,  as  now,  your  great  eyes  Tield  me, 
Warm,  glowing  in  the  morning  light, 

And  your  imperious  youth  compelled  me 
To  love  and  fear  you — and  to  flight. 

You  followed,  and  the  crags  were  ringing 
With  the  wild  rapture  of  your  song, 

From  rock  to  rock  my  white  hands  clinging, 
You  followed,  fierce  and  straight  and  strong. 

And  then  the  mists  came  grayly  floating — 
Came  floating  inland  from  the  sea; 

One  backward  glance,  soft  laughter  throating, 
I  sprang,  and  you  were  lost  to  me. 

[  6] 


And  yet  from  my  high  cliff  I  heard  you — 

I  heard  you  singing  through  the  night 
The  wild,  sweet  dream  that  pained  and  stirred 

you, 
Yet  lured  you  onward  to  delight. 

"Come  down  to  me,  you  wild  sea-spirit, 

Or  I  shall  die  of  loving  you  ! 
My  heart  is  gentle — never  fear  it; 

But  fly  from  me,  and  I  pursue ! 

"Come  down  to  me — I've  waited,  waited 
Through  the  white  morning  of  my  youth 

Unstained,  that  when  we  met  and  mated 
I  should  be  yours  in  God's  pure  truth. 

"Come  down  to  me !     Your  fragrance  fills  me 
With  strange,  quick  summonings  of  fire ! 

Come  down !     Your  hesitating  kills  me ! 
Come  to  me,  girl  of  soul's  desire!" 

And  when  the  gray  mists  broke  asunder, 
I  saw  you  'neath  the  morning  star; 

And  then  the  sun's  first  gleaming  wonder, 
A  burning,  blood-red  scimitar. 

We  stood  together  in  the  morning, 
A  strange,  sweet  shyness  on  our  souls, 

Love's  first  faint  flush  our  brows  adorning 
With  little  fleeting  aureoles. 

m 


You  bent  your  head,  your  red  lips  pressing 

Upon  my  brow  the  bridal  kiss, 
Our  young  lips  tasting  and  confessing 

Love's  tender  sacrament  in  this. 

One  moment — then  our  star-white  rapture 
Was  pierced  with  sudden  shaft  of  fear ; 

The  Sea  leapt  hissing  up  to  capture 
The  slender  form  you  held  most  dear. 

What  though  you  cleft  the  waves  and  called  me, 
And  beat  your  head  upon  the  sand, 

The  Mother  Sea  had  crossed  and  palled  me, 
My  senses  could  not  understand. 

And  yet  my  spirit  surged  above  her, 
And  wept  my  sorrow  at  your  feet, 

And  whispered,  "I'll  come  back,  my  lover, 
One  day,  and  make  your  joy  complete!" 

And  in  your  dark,  salt  locks  I  lingered, 
I  kissed  with  tears  your  swooning  eyes ; 

I  pressed  upon  your  breast,  soft-fingered, 
With  showers  of  little  sorrowing  sighs. 

And  when  I  came  again,  I  knew  you, 

Your  lips,  your  eyes,  your  touch  of  fire ! 

Just  as  of  yore  I  drank  and  drew  you 
Into  my  dawning  dream's  desire. 

[8] 


And  then — and  then  I  hesitated, 
That  later  night  beside  the  sea, 

When  all  the  world  was  re-created, 
With  wealth  of  joy  for  you  and  me. 

Oh,  if  your  heart  the  draught  of  sadness 
Has  drained,  it  does  not  drink  alone ; 

Those  times  your  sorrow  burns  to  madness, 
I  match  its  passion  with  my  own. 

Sometimes,  a-dream,  your  eyes  all  burning 
With  elfish  laughter  seek  my  own, 

Your  lips,  red,  tender,  warm  and  yearning, 
Your  soft  hair  dark,  and  all  sea-blown. 

Now  will  we  always  go  together, 
Sweet  soul,  though  we  be  far  apart, 

That  morning  kiss  our  bridal  tether — 
And  none  but  you  shall  know  my  heart. 

And  I,  dear,  shall  no  longer  fear  you 
As  in  that  morning  mist  of  yore ; 

My  soul  must  hover  ever  near  you, 
E'en  as  the  sea  must  seek  the  shore. 

And  when  we  wake  from  this  sad  dreaming, 
I'll  wait  beside  the  Mother  Sea, 

For  after  all  the  pain  and  seeming 
She'll  lead  you  back  to  Love  and  me. 

[9] 


A  LOST  SONG 

Do  you  remember  that  sweet  moment,  dear, 

When  roses  hung  in  spiraled,  rich  perfume 
Above  the  porch,  and  red  squirrels  chattered 
near, 
And    bluejays    flashed    adown    the    summer 
bloom  ? 

A  robin's  lonely  nest  deserted  hung 

In  thick  of  tangled  vines,  where  all  day  long 

The  wee  hen  brooded,  till  her  heart  was  wrung 
By  storm  that  robbed  her  home  of  hope  and 
song. 

The  sun  hung  toward  the  west — you  came  to  me 
Your   dark    hair   drenched,   your  dea,r   face 
tawned  of  toil, 

Your  eyes  a-light  with  love,  so  good  to  see, 
About  you  still  the  fragrance  of  the  soil. 

And  oh,  your  wooing  lips  were  warm  as  earth — 
They  sought  my  own  in  gathering  gray  of 
night ; 

The  cricket  hushed  his  eerie  note  of  mirth, 
And  roses  shed  an  incense  of  delight. 

And  listening  now  to  music's  mystic  strain 
In  glare  of  jeweled  light  and  satin  sheen, 

I  would  we  had  our  kingdom  back  again — 
The  riotous  realm  of  Love,  the  nest  of  green. 

[10] 


PRAYER  IN  SILENCE 

Lokd,  give  me  but  the  power  to  hold  the  pride 
For  which  my  flesh  has  been  so  crucified; 
And  give  me  power  to  smile  on  friend  and  foe, 
With  heart-uplift,  that  they  may  never  know. 

The  wounds  of  Love,  its  raptures  or  its  pain 
Sink  in  the  soil  of  souls,  and  are  £he  grain 
From  which  are  sprung  the  fairest  harvests,  so 
In  quiet  and  in  secrecy  they  grow. 

Lord,  that  I  have  the  strength  to  brave  and 

bear, 
The  veil  of  smiling  silence  let  me  wear. 
Lord,  let  me  fight  my  battle  in  the  dark, 
Alone,  unaided;  let  the  stillness  hark 

Alone  to  my  heart's  struggle ;  let  my  hands 
Alone  tear  up  each  rock  that  ragged  stands 
To  bar  my  way,  and  rend  my  quivering  flesh. 
From  far,  free  heights  there  blows  a  breeze  all 
fresh 

With  purity  from  crests  of  virgin  snows ; 
Deep — deep  into  the  mettled  breast  it  goes, 
To  stir  the  ruddy  blood  to  meet  its  chill, 
To  nerve  the  spirit  with  its  quickening  thrill. 

Lord,  that  I  have  the  strength  to  brave  and  bear, 
The  veil  of  smiling  silence  let  me  wear. 

[11] 


BIRTH 

Let  the  winds  play  soft,  and  the  winds  play 

light 
For  a  soul — for  a  soul  that  is  born  to-night ! 
Let  us  enter  softly,  and  kiss  the  feet 
Of  the  mother,  lying  pale  and  sweet. 
Let  us  lift  the  infant  from  her  face, 
And  fold  it  in  a  close  embrace. 
Let  us  hold  it  far  from  where  man  has  trod, 
Let  us  hold  it  up  to  the  throne  of  God, 
And  pray  with  the  strength  of  a  deep  desire, 
Till  he  bends  and  he  sends  in  a  quivering  fire 
His  breath  through  its  soul,  as  a  wind-swept 

lyre! 
Oh,  the  winds  that  are  weeping  soft  and  light 
For  a  spotless  soul  that  is  born  to-night. 


[12] 


DIE  WALKURE 

(After  hearing  Wagner's  opera) 

Ever  the  wild,  weird  music  of  that  night 

Sweeps  the  iEolian  fibres  of  my  soul: 
Tempestuous  warning  from  a  barren  height 

Stirs  through  the  deep-gloomed  forests,  till 
the  whole 
Cimmerian    storm    comes    bellowing;    crashing 
trees 

Batter  their  regal  heads  in  dazed  alarm. 
Furious  the  Gale  pursues — unfettered  flees 

The  glacial  Torrent  from  his  longing  arm. 

Loudly  she  mocks  him  in  her  wild  descent, 
Flinging  her  stinging  tresses  in  his  face ; 

Fiercely  he  curses  gods  that  aid  her  bent, 
Urging  to  greater  speed  his  breathless  pace. 

She  pales  and  sickens — for  her  maddened  pride 
Death  yawns  before  her  in  a  black  abyss. 

She  leaps ! — he  clasps  her,  passion's  highest  tide 
Trembles  a  moment  in  his  consuming  kiss. 


[13] 


Darkness  enfolds  their  forms :  her  pride,  his  love 
Wed  in  destruction.     Bald  hills  tower  above — 
Below  a  waste  of  water  rocks  to  rest 
Colossal  ruined  forests  on  its  breast ; 
While    comes   a   wail   from   the   storm-ravished 

hollow 
As  of  a  wanton  spirit,  "Follow — follow!" 


14 


THE  SOURCE 

Grant  me  to  rest  a  little  while  apart 

In  the  sun's  morning,  mist-dissolving  dart, 

For  I  am  weary  of  the  feel  of  things ; 
Let  me  but  listen  to  the  tender  thrush, 
Hear  the  soft  whir  of  him  in  upward  rush, 

Beating  the  sunlight  with  his  brown,  blithe 
wings — 

Here,  where  the  bare  earth  wakes  from  winter 

swoon ; 
Here,  where  the  warm  wind's  low  and  gentle 

croon 
Trembles  across  the  harp  of  greening  boughs ; 
Here  where  the  brook  bursts,  bounding,  as  with 

life 
Newly  attuned  to  recreative  strife, 

Stirring  the  slumb'ring  seeds  from  snow-girt 

sloughs. 

Would  I  could  carry  word  to  the  heart  of  man 
How  the  fleet  seasons  over  your  bosom  ran, 

Mother,  whose  coldest  touch  is  a  caress, 
Ever  reviving  hearts  to  bliss  of  being, 
Ever  the  pent-up  fire  of  spirit  freeing — 

Thrilling  once  more  with  life  and  Love's  ex- 
cess. 


[15] 


THE  PAUPERED  RICH 

I  watch  them,  regal-ermined,  tier  on  tier, 
Unmoved,  serene — while  music's  pulsing  tide 
Swells  ever  upward,  spreading  high  and  wide. 
Lo,  now  it  shakes  with  fearsome  prophecy, 
Then  luring,  light,  with  momentary  glee, 
Rolls  forward  to  the  deeps  of  tragedy. 

And  far  aloft  a  raptured,  panting  soul 
Peers  whitely  from  her  hair's  bright  aureole — 
Her  modest  raiment  crossed  upon  a  breast 
A-quiver  with  a  glorious  unrest, 
The   music's   wild,    sweet    storm    of  life   and 

death 
Indrawn  with  every  palpitating  breath. 

And  then  I  bring  the  haughty  faces  near, 
I  touch  the  pulses  of  them,  young  and  old, 
I  touch  their  lips  and  hearts,  and  find  them 
cold. 
O  barren  brows,  the  silken,  jeweled  snood 
Will  bring  no  fine,  high  rapture  there  to 
brood ! 
Though  music  beat  its  ecstasy  and  pain 
Upon  you,  when  its  tide  shall  ebb  again 
'Twill  leave  you  unimpassioned,  dull  and  sane. 
Though  outward  power  and  grandeur  may 

cajole, 
There  is  no  beggary  like  a  paupered  soul. 

[16] 


THE  MASTER  HEART 

"I  carry  the  world  in  my  heart,"  said  the 
Prophet  of  old; 

"I  live  in  the  scars  of  the  past,  and  the  story 
untold ; 

I  live  as  the  fruit  in  the  seed  from  the  sow- 
er's hand  flung; 

I  live  in  the  song  of  the  bard,  and  in  measures 
unsung. 

I  flame  in  the  sunset,  and  rise  in  mysterious 
dawn; 

I  live  in  the  roar  of  the  lion,  the  cry  of  the 
fawn. 

I  glitter  in  Mammon's  desire,  in  the  greed  of 
the  sea ; 

In  famine  of  body  and  soul  is  the  essence  of  me. 

The  master  and  slave,  both  oppressor  am  I  and 
oppressed, 

The  king  in  high  state,  and  the  beggar  in  me 
are  confessed. 

The  bearer  of  burdens — the  toiler  'neath  sweat- 
ing and  tan — 

Behold  him,  rough-hewn  in  my  image,  for  I  am 
that  man ! 

I  rose  through  the  ages,  through  terror  and 
lusting  and  strife, 

But  followed  my  star  till  I  mastered  the  mean- 
ing of  life; 

[17] 


And  out  of  the  tragedy,  under  the  far  eastern 

sky, 
I  came  with  the  comfort  of  man  and  his  heart's 

hungry  cry. 

"And  you  whom  I  love — you  must  fare  through 
the  labyrinth,  too, 

Unravel  the  meaning  of  all — yea,  the  false  from 
the  true; 

And  knowing,  must  grow  in  the  silence,  while 
clinging  to  naught ; 

And  yet  you  must  love,  and  the  things  you  have 
other  times  sought 

With  greed,  little  heeding  the  souls  you  un- 
knowingly slew — 

In  giving  and  serving  alone  shall  bring  joy  unto 

"So  love,  little  brother  of  oxen,  of  rock  and 
of  tree, 

And  loving,  you  rise,  for  you  still  are  the 
brother  of  Me. 

I  carry  the  world  in  my  heart,  with  its  blessing 
or  ban ; 

I  love  you,  and  lead  you  to  brotherhood,  chil- 
dren of  man !" 


[18] 


MY  BRIDE  O'  MAY 

Month  of  May — Month  of  May, 
You  are  all  too  far  away ! 

What  a  wealth  to  me  you  bring — 
Eyes  in  whose  abysses  dwell 
All  there  is  of  heaven  and  hell! 
Heaven  to  know  you  will  be  true, 
Hell  to  wait  and  long  for  you — 
Heart  a-flutter  'neath  a  breast, 
Loving,  timid  and  distressed ; 

Lips  that  cleave,  and  kiss,  and  cling, 
Fingers  glowing,  tipped  with  fire — 
O  my  Love,  the  sweet  desire 
Just  to  hold  you — hold  you  so, 
And  to  never  let  you  go ! 
Month  of  May — Month  of  May, 
You  who  bring  my  wedding  day ! 


[19] 


LOVE'S  KEEP 

0  love,  you  hold  me  hard  against  your  heart — 
The  veil  that  shrouds  my  soul  is  torn  apart 
By  the  wild  throbbing  of  your  pulses,  dear; 

1  melt  into  your  being  without  fear. 

For  thus  you  pledged  my  future  surety, 
You  kissed  my  lips,  but  kissed  in  purity. 
You  wound  me  in  your  arms,  but  held  me  there 
Away  from  mine  own  fetters  of  despair. 

O  Love,  the  little  moon  may  wax  or  wane, 
The  fitful  Seasons  fret  the  Earth  in  vain, 
So  you  shall  hold  me  as  you  hold  me  now, 
With  that  sweet,  tender  light  upon  your  brow! 


[20] 


SOUL  UNION 

Sweet  soul,  inviolate  presence  rarely  known 
By  fleshly  touch  or  contact  ever  near, 

Your  thoughts,   transcending  time   and   space, 
are  shown 
My  heavy  heart,  in  forms  as  crystal  clear; 
Your  mortal  voice  in  ecstasy  I  hear, 

To  me  by  soft  immortal  breezes  blown. 

Your  eyes  of  burning  brown  upon  me  play, 
As  strong  as  stars  that  pierce  the  gloom  of 
night, 
Look  through  mine  own  as  only  those  eyes  may, 
Illume  my  reveries  with  visions  bright, 
That  leap  to  meet  your  thoughts  as  moths  to 
light, 
When  soul  and  soul  unite  in  rhythmic  sway. 

A  union  tangible  by  earthly  minds 

The  Destinies  forbid ;  yet  One  more  high 

Unites  us  in  a  stronger  tie  that  binds 

The  intellect  and  soul,  and  lights  the  eye 
With  triumph  to   a  state  which  ne'er  shall 
die, 

As  Time  his  endless  thread  of  life  unwinds. 


[21] 


One  moment  only,  in  a  dazzling  dream, 

I  felt  you  turn  your  peerless  soul  to  mine; 

There  shot  athwart  my  heart  a  golden  gleam 
Which  filled  my  breast  with  tremblings  di- 
vine: 
For  following  fast  the  glorious  glowing  line 

Our  souls  have  traveled,  until  now  they  seem 

Merged  in  a  union  of  transcending  bliss — 
I  saw  you  stand  within  the  shadowy  space 
From  which  my  mind  was  wont  your  form  to 
miss ; 
Then  hand  and  arm  and  lip,  face  pressed  to 

face, 
The   physical  as   souls   we   interlace, 
United  in  a  never-ending  kiss. 

We  see  the  marvelous  mystery  unroll 

Of  all  that  must  in  mating  pure  be  given — 

Life,  body,  heart  and  hand  and  mind  and  soul ! 

Our  throbbing  breasts,  with  sudden  rapture 

riven, 
Dissolve  the  clouds  of  doubt  through  which 
we've  striven 
At  last  to  reach  Love's  one  imperious  goal. 


[22] 


The  dream  is  vanished,  and  the  golden  blaze 
That  wrapped   about  our  raptured  wedded 
forms, 
And  filled  us  both  with  wonder  and  amaze, 
Enthralling  both   our   souls   with   passioned 

charms, 
Has  left  to  each  within  bereaved  arms 
The  sad,  sweet  spirit  of  those  ravished  rays. 

0  Soul  of  me,  this  parting  must  be  best — 
For  would  we  not  forget  in  Love's  delight 

Our  fellow-beings,  and  our  duty's  test 

Through  life?     But  now  each  soul  is  strong 

in  right, 
And  aids  the  other  shape  the  silver  flight 

Of  hallowed  song,  that  all  the  world  be  blest. 


[23] 


WIND  OF  THE  NIGHT 

Out  of  what  uncanny,  weird  abyss, 

Wild  wind  of  the  night, 

Do  you  wing  your  flight? 
With  your  sad,  soft  sigh,  your  deathly  kiss 

On  the  window  pane — 

Then  you  slowly  wane, 
The  breath  of  a  thwarted,  maddening  bliss. 

From  the  pale,  far  glimmer  through  the  trees 

Comes  whispering  low 

A  shuddering  woe, 
With  burd'nings  of  your  mystic  pleas ; 

E'en  the  Pleiads  pale 

As  your  eerie  wail 
Floats  over  the  clouds'  dark  billowy  seas. 

Do  you  come  with  a  message  from  the  dead? 

Do  you  strive  to  speak 

To  a  soul  you  seek, 
As  you  pass  each  shadowy,  sleep-stilled  bed? 

In  your  measured  moan 

Do  you  bear  the  tone 
Of  a  voice  now  into  the  darkness  fled? 


[24] 


SENSITIVE  PLANTS 

TO  EDMUND  CLARENCE  STEDMAN 
October  8,  1903 

Where  the  south  breezes  sweep  in  rapt  unrest 
Over  vEolian  pines,  on  Earth's  brown  breast, 
Frail,  sensitive  filmy  fingers  grope  through  the 

night — 
Grope  shadowy  green  in  the  moon,  for  the  Sun's 

large  light. 

In  the  dark  hours  through  which  young  spirits 

grope 
You  feel  the  fire  of  all  their  high  hearts  hope ; 
And  leaning  from  Song's  sacrificial  height, 
You  hail  them  on,  and  harbor  toward  the  light. 


[25] 


FOR  ELLA  WHEELER  WILCOX 

Woman  of  fate — brave  daughter  of  the  Norns, 
Whose  face  has  caught  the  far  auroral  light 
That  burned  through  ages  drear  and  dumb 

with  blight — 
Serene  and  young  of  spirit,  then  as  now, 
Beneath  the  topaz  tresses  on  your  brow 

I  saw  the  impress  of  the  wreath  of  thorns. 

There  was  no  way  too  perilous  for  your  feet, 
There  was  no  fear  of  all  you  had  to  meet 

In  testing  of  the  spheres ;  and  there  arose 
Out  of  the  tortuous  ways  of  loss  and  pain 
A  woman,  sure  of  soul,  who  came  again, 

To  lead  where  the  white  light  of  wisdom  glows. 


[26] 


TO  ROBERT  BURNS 

Scotch  Bardie,  there  be  those  who  name  you 
With  questioning,  and  seek  to  shame  you 
For  roistering  muckle  at  the  tavern, 
For  mocking  at  the  holy  cavern 
Where  Moody  held  at  bay  old  Hornie, 
And  damned  you  to  the  pathway  thorny. 

You  left  full  many  a  heart  a-burning, 
For  your  bland,  bonny  presence  yearning: 
For  woman's  een  were  your  undoing, 
And  ever  set  you  warmly  wooing. 

But  Bardie,  there  was  One  who  gave  you 
A  cup  o'er  full,  and  were't  to  save  you 
You  could  not  carry  it  unspilled, 
Impetuous,  yearning  soul,  soon  chilled 
By   petty  lives,  whose  meagre  measure 
Could  not  contain  your  heart's  whole  treasure. 

And  Bardie,  we  who  follow  after 
Must  love  you  for  your  lingering  laughter — 
A  lilt  for  souls  sincere,  but  danger 
For  ilka  man  to  truth  a  stranger. 
Hypocrisy  fled  as   from   kelpie 
Before  the  een  of  Ayr's  young  whelpie : 
They  pierced  the  vain  veneer  of  snobbery, 
And  scorned  the  savor  of  nabobbery. 

[27] 


So,  Bardie,  brave  as  wind  untethered, 
And  wilful  as  the  wave  foam-feathered, 
The  warm  earth  odor  clings  about  you; 
No  son  of  toil  will  ever  flout  you — 
More  proud  and  passionate  than  sinning, 
We  love  your  singing,  wild  and  winning. 


["28  1 


TO  ONE  READING  FROM 
SWINBURNE 

Thy  wondrous  power  doth  animate  and  waken 
The   slumbering   souls    and   shadows    of  the 
past: 
The  fair  Faustine,  her  deadly  passion  shaken 

By  mad  voluptuousness,  full  fiercely  cast; 
And   Nero's   childhood,   youth   and   manhood's 
shame, 
Fast  following  o'er  the  resurrected  years — 
The  Choral  Hymns  enwrapped  in  sacred  flame, 
Time's    Triumph   'merging   from   a   wail   of 
tears ! 


[-291 


BALLAD  OF  LILIES 
TO  HELEN  HEYL 

"Behold  us  drooping  on  our  stately  stalks, 
Fair  flowers  of  grace  in  rapturous  repose; 

Plucked  in  Bermuda  from  cool,  quiet  walks, 
And  seeking  to  thy  bosom  to  disclose 
That  which  the  vaunting,  vain,  voluptuous 
rose 

Could  never  to  thy  senses  half  convey — 
A  message  that  with  gentle  gladness  glows !" 

The  snow-white,  soft,  sweet-scented  lilies  say. 

"Each  flower  the  flaming  fire  of  passion  mocks, 
And  bids  thy  hot  hands,  trembling,  to  un- 
close, 
Nor  long  to  quiver  in  repeated  locks 

And  clasps,  which  but  increase  desire,  with 

those 
That  sent  us ;  but  our  mystic  music  throws 
About  thee,  murmuring  low,  Love's  languorous 

lay, 
That  o'er  thee  as  a  day-dream  dimly  flows !" 
The   snow-white,  soft,  sweet-scented  lilies   say. 

"Still  e'er  with  lingering  love  each  blossom  wells, 

And  tells  he  holds  thee  purer  than  the  snows 

Untouched    by    human     foot — where    no    man 

dwells ; 

He   sends   thee  joy   with  every  breeze   that 

blows, 

[30] 


And  constantly  with  thee  his  fond  heart  goes. 
His  thoughts  are  all  for  thee  at  dawn  of  day 

Until  the  sinking  sun  portends  its  close !" 
The   snow-white,   soft,   sweet-scented  lilies   say. 

l'envoi 
O  lady,  heed !  where  this  love-lily  grows 
A  heart  is  waiting,  restive  for  the  day 
When   thou   shalt   answer  the   sweet   words   he 
knows 
The    snow-white,    soft,    sweet-scented    lilies 
say! 


[311 


MID-WOOD  SPIRIT 

A  perfume  stole  upon  me,  faint  and  sweet — 
A  breath  of  mid-wood  in  the  early  Spring ; 
And  then  I  heard  a  night-bird  lightly  fling 

A  soft  caress  from  out  its  far  retreat. 

The  young  Spring  spilled  her  hallowed  ecstasy 
In  rivers  of  white  moonlight  on  the  night; 
Then  came  a  thrill  of  delicate  delight — 

A  wild,  warm  promise  of  the  day  to  be. 

Come,  send  your  magic  on  the  heart  of  man, 
Elusive  mid-wood  spirit ;  melt  the  crust 
Of  wintry  ice  that  weighs  him  to  the  dust: 

Too  long  in  silence  lie  the  pipes  of  Pan. 


["32] 


THE  HARBINGER 

Before    the    Spring   has    even    sent   a   breath 

across  the  sleeping  earth, 
I  throw  the  casement  wide  to  let  the  sunlight  in 

upon  the  hearth. 

Then  sweet,  invisible  presences   come  peering, 

pressing  through  the  rooms, 
With  silent  laughter,  palms  aglow,  and  spilling 

ravishing  perfumes ! 

One  time  I  almost  thought  I  caught  the  flutter 

of  a  garment !     Heard 
A  voice,  mysterious  and  low,  bend  to  my  ear 

this  whispered  word: 

"Lo!  I  am  young,  and  full  of  joy!  for  I  am 

born  of  Ecstasy ! 
Come  out  with  me  across  the  waste,  the  wonders 

of  my  world  to  see ! 

"Lo!  how  you   waste  with  this   and  that  the 

guerdon  of  a  golden  day ! 
Lo!  how  you  flounder  in  the  mesh  of  self-spun 

Duty's  web  of  gray ! 


[33  1 


"Lo!  how  you  grovel  through  the  gloom  with 
eyes  bent  down  in  seeking  God! 

Lo !  you  malign  Him  as  a  monster  brandishing 
a  chastening  rod! 

"He's  pouring  out  the  sunlight's  gold  from  the 

great  bowl  of  blue  above ! 
Come  out,  and  give  him  gold  for  gold,  and  joy 

for  joy,  and  love  for  love! 

"Come  out — come  out,  and  learn  the  news  that 
through  the  woods  is  whispering!" 

I  followed.  Lo!  and  in  the  boughs  the  flutter 
of  a  bluebird's  wing! 


[34] 


ASHES  OF  ROSES 

Would  it  console  you,  dear,  if  you  could  know 
That  I,  from  all  the  glitter,  gain  and  glow 
Turn  wearily,  and  try  to  live  again 
Those  hours  so  sweet — and  oh,  so  free  of  pain? 

Would  it  console  you,  dear,  to  know  your  hands 
Still    draw    me,    as    two    strong,    impassioned 

bands — 
Still  draw  me,  till  the  refuge  of  your  arms 
Engirdles  me,  from  all  the  hurts  and  harms? 

Would  it  console  you,  dear,  to  know  the  dream 
Still  fetters  me,  and  makes  the  present  seem 
Unreal  and  gray,  and  oh,  so  strangely  cold 
Without  your  love — for  Fame's  poor  guerdon 
sold? 


[35] 


AT  VALLEY  FORGE 

O  man  of  Fate,  who  passed  with  warrior  tread, 

Stern,  sorrowing  among  the  fallen  dead, 

Who   wept   that    men   must    feed   red   battle's 

gorge, 
Your  great  heart  wrung  in  prayer  at  Valley 

Forge, 
What  did  your  soul  breathe  forth  in  proph- 
ecy— 
What  promises  to  starving  Liberty? 

There,  as  you  knelt  upon  the  barren  sod, 
Your  naked  soul  came  face  to  face  with  God — 
Burned  white  with  passion  for  tfie  thing  you 

sought, 
And  in  that  hour  a  miracle  was  wrought: 
As  if  from  a  dread  lethargy  alarmed, 
Sprang  palpitating  Victory,  full-armed. 


[36] 


THE  POET  DEAD 

TO  JOAQUIN  MILLER 

Child   on   whose   brow  the  white  star  of  the 
morning 
Set  a  strange  seal  that  the  brotherhood  knows, 
What  was  the  word  of  that  last  whispered  warn- 
ing, 
What  shall  we  say  of  you  now  at  the  close? 

You  who  came  out  of  the  mystery  singing, 
Child  of  the  Sunland  and  Occident  seas, 

Back   into  mystery   silently  winging, 

What  is  the  word  that  shall  bring  us  heart- 
ease? 

Lo,  you  have  scattered  a  nebulous  wonder 
Over  the  toil-troubled  spirits  of  men — 

Torn    the    gold    gates    of    the    dream    world 
asunder, 
Leading  us  into  Love's  morning  again. 

Far  on  the  heights  where  your  songs  faintly 
tremble, 

Follow  we  into  the  rose-misted  dawn — 
Follow  the  way  where  the  white  souls  assemble — 

Up  through  the  mystery,  on  and  still  on! 


[37] 


THANKSGIVING 

Yes,  I  am  thankful,  though  my  life  must  be 
Forever   as    a    lightning-stricken    tree: 
For  once  I  brought  the  roses  to  her  face, 
And  folded  her  away  in  Love's  embrace. 

Mine  were  the  eyes  to  drink  the  parting  smile 
That  lingered  on  her  pallid  lips  a  while; 
Mine  were  the  hands  that  laid  my  sweet  to  rest, 
The  red  rose  and  the  lily  on  her  breast. 

0  days  of  darkness,  days  of  doubting  drear, 

1  often  feel  her  presence  pressing  near; 

And  then,  how  sweet  the  fleeting  moments  seem ! 
Be  glad,  my  heart,  for  we  have  lived  the  Dream ! 


[38] 


AT  THE  GRAVE 

They  think  you  have  fled  from  my  life  as  far 
As  the  wan  watch-light  of  yon  cloud-swept  star. 

Nay — they  could  not  bury  you  out  of  my 

sight, 
Though   they   builded   a   mountain   over   your 

head; 
But  they  little  know  you  are  not  of  the  dead. 

They  would  say  'twas  the  play  of  light  on  the 

grass, 
As  I  watch  you  lithely  pass  and  repass; 
They  would  say  'twas  the  voice  of  the  distant 

sea 
As  you  lean  your  lips   and  whisper  to  me ; 
They  would  say  again  'twas  the  damp  of  the 

dew 
When  your  hands  touch  mine,  and  draw  me  to 

you. 

They  would  whisper,  "Crazed  with  the  grief 
of  the  night!" 
Never  knowing  the  phantom  gates  of  death 
Dissolve  in  the  flame  of  Love's  pleading  breath. 


[39] 


RISEN 

Foe  this  my  soul  with  pain  was  wrung, 
For  this  my  heart  to  anguish  flung, 
For  this  my  path  with  thorns  was  set, 
For  this  my  burden  of  regret — 
To  blame  no  one. 

For  this   Love's   sun   a  moment  blazed, 
Then  left  me,  cold,  alone  and  dazed; 
For  this  low  lies  the  pallid  brow, 
And  scarlet  lips  are  ashes  now — 
To  blame  no  one. 

O  you  who  braved  the  deathly  night, 
Then  rose  again  in  God's  white  light — 
Lord,  it  is  even  so  with  me, 
My  soul  is  risen,  I  am  free — 
I  blame  no  one. 


[40] 


THE  HUNGER 

I  met  a  pair  of  eyes,  one  day, 

That  o'er  my  own 
Held  an  unspoken,  subtle  sway: 

For  sadly  shone 

Out  through  their  lakes  of  blue  a  ray, 

As  if  to  say, 
"I  am  alone — and  while  you  may 

Oh,  come  away !" 

No  word  was  needed  as  I  passed 

Into  the  day; 
And  then  your  whisper  near,  "At  last ! 

Tell— tell,  I  pray— 

"What  does  it  mean,  O  Heart,  that  you 

Should  cross  my  path, 
With  subtle  power  of  glance  to  woo 

Love's    aftermath  ? 

"Why  should  you  hail  me,  breathing  Spring 

And  soft  delight, 
As  from  my  sorrowing  heart  to  fling 

Wan  Winter's  blight?" 

"Give  me  your  hand,"  I  said;  "I  came 

To  touch  your  soul 
With  mine  own  spirit's  quick'ning  flame, 

And  make  you  whole. 

[41] 


"Out  of  the  dust  of  sadness,  lo 

The  rock  of  Fate! 
Build  you  the  Dream  in  joy — oh,  go! 

Heart,  do  not  wait. 

"Waste  not  desire  in  useless  grief — 

Build,  build,  white  hands! 
Your  work  is  great,  and  time  but  brief — 

God  understands. 

"Your  passion  brand  into  your  deed — 

Create,  create! 
God  answers  to  your  crying  need — 

Heart,  do  not  wait! 

"Pour  passion  like  a  molten  fire 

Into  your  art ! 
It  shall  transfigure  your  desire 

Till  life  shall  start 

"Beneath  your  stroke!"     I've  done  my  deed- 
Nay,  it  is  so ! 

No  hungry  flesh — a  soul  I  feed ! 
I  go— I  go. 


[42] 


A  LITTLE  LIE 

A  ijttle  lie — it  was  not  much, 
Had  you  not  told  it ;  many  such 
Are  used  each  day  to  fence  and  foil, 
To  shelter  intrigue,  gather  spoil. 

A  little  lie — and  yet  its  smart 
Was  keener  than  a  poison  dart 
Straight   at   my   heart ;   because   of   you 
It  pierced  my  being  through  and  through. 

I  knew  the  truth,  yet  did  not  start, 
Nor  tear  you  from  my  troubled  heart. 
You  did  not  think — you  could  not  know, 
Or  you   would   not   have  dealt   the  blow. 

I  know  this  wound  you  would  abjure, 
I  know  your  love  is  strong  and  sure. 
You  could  not  be  to  me  less  dear 
Than  you  have  been;  and  yet  a  fear 
Stings  strangely,  and  with  venomed  hiss 
Steals  all  the  freshness  from  your  kiss ! 


[43] 


THE  TIME  HAS  COME 

The  time  has  come,  dear  heart, 

I  must  be  on  my  way; 
What  though  the  tears  may  start, 

You  may  not  bid  me  stay. 

The  heart  may  falter  now, 
In  Love's  last  sweet  delay — 

But  speak  no  earthly  vow, 
I  must  be  on  my  way. 

You  cannot  say  farewell — 
Your  lips  are  drawn  and  cold. 

What  shall  the  days  foretell  ? 
The  moon  is  growing  old. 

'Twere  better  that  we  part 

Than  lose  Love's  last  sweet  shred- 
'Twill  spare  the  keener  smart 

When  Love  lies  chilled  and  dead. 

Kiss  me — the  last,  long  kiss 
Shall  be  so  solemn,  sweet, 

For  all  the  days  we  miss, 
The  future  incomplete. 

Strew  white  flowers  on  the  hearth, 
Among  the  ashes  gray — 

The  last  long  look  on  earth: 
I  must  be  on  my  way. 
[44] 


THE  POOR  RELATION 

She  bends  above  her  rations,  and  forbears 
To  lift  her  eyes  the  while  the  jest  goes  round; 

For  sneers  and  heartless  jibes  she  little  cares — 
Her  sensibilities  one  cannot  wound. 

The  witty  thrust  went  home  without  a  pang, 
Though  barbed  and  poison-flecked  with  irony ; 

So  often  she  has  felt  derision's  fang 

That  strangely  calloused  has  she  grown  to 
be. 

Yet  when  she  sees  the  faces  of  the  young 
About  her,  softly  laughing  her  to  scorn, 

An  unsuspected  living  nerve  is  wrung, 
And  in  her  side  the  pricking  of  a  thorn. 

Perhaps  her  memory  harks  back  to  days 

When    she   was    slender-limbed   and   fair   of 
face, 

With  liquid  eyes  of  innocence,  and  ways 
Of  winsome  modesty  and  girlish  grace. 

Where  has  she  wandered  with  the  weight  of 
years 

That  drag  her  feet  upon  a  downward  path? 
Flogged  on  by  poverty  and  hate  and  fears, 

Consumed  by  malice,  jealousy  and  wrath — 


[45] 


Belittled,  spurned,  and  humbled  to  the  dust, 
Defiantly  she  eats  the  food  of  wealth, 

By  deprivation  poisoned  with  a  lust 
To  get,  by  force,  by  flattery  or  stealth. 


[46] 


A  SPRING  MEMORY 

The  mocking  bird  has  broken  silence,  lo ! 

I  heard  him  in  the  dawn  through  drift  of 
dreams — 

I  saw  him  float  through  faint  auroral  gleams 
That  from  the  cup  of  morning  overflow. 

He  plunged  into  the  golding  greenery 
Below  my  window — then  a  burst  of  song 
Soared  up  exultingly,  and  lingered  long 

In  little  running  runes  of  ecstasy. 

And  soon  he  will  be  singing  through  the  night 
To  cheer  the  vigils  of  his  brooding  mate — 
Pour  forth  the  wonder  that  the  twain  await 

In  measure  of  delirious  delight. 

And  so  one  night  he  sang  when  Life  was  young 
Among  the  pinewood  fragrances,  and  sweet 
Was  every  trembling  breath,  and  the  heart 
beat 

With  Love's  ecstatic  cadences  unsung. 

A  silent  moment,  then  the  pulsing  thrill 

That  swept  a  singing  rapture  through  Love's 

lyre, 
Enduing  it  with  sudden,  vibrant  fire — 

O  haunting  memories,  be  still — be  still! 

[47] 


DAME  PROPRIETY 

0  ancient  dame,  why  do  you  dwell,  forsooth, 
So  bitterly  upon  the  ways  of  youth? 
Why  should  you  draw  your  brow  so  angrily 
Because  Aurora's  ways  are  glad  and  free? 
Because  her  pursing  lips  are  good  to  kiss, 
And  her  warm  eyes  are  challenges  to  this? 

1  think  you  scarce  so  generous  to  joy 

You   could   have   drunk   her   draught   without 

alloy ; 
I  think  you  stole  in  pitiful  deceit 
Your  scant  enjoyments,  thus  yourself  to  cheat, 
Not  knowing  God  had  made  the  heart  to  sing 
His  living  psalms  in  rapture's  fluttering. 

Sit  you  devoutly  down  in  churchly  pew, 
Praise  Providence  that  glorifies  in  you 
Those  barren  virtues  you  are  forced  to  bear, 
Because  you  were  not  brave  enough  to  dare 
Life's  whirlwind  of  experience,  and  now 
"Too  late !"  is  written  on  your  bloodless  brow ! 


[48] 


A  WARNING  WORD 

It  isn't  worth  while  to  offend 
Your  friend, 
Merely  to  spar  in  a  war  of  wits, 
Heedless  of  where  the  missile  hits — 

You  may  never  say  where  it  all  may  end.. 

Sweet  is  the  delicate  touch 
Of  such 

As  needs  no  speech  to  understand ; 

Warm  is  the  pressure  of  the  hand — 
And  oh,  you  will  miss  him  much — so  much! 


[49] 


MEETING  AND  PARTING 

What  can  it  matter,  friend — what  of  the  past? 
Since  I  have  found  you,  from  the  lyre  of  life 
A  dreamy  chord  is  drawn,  with  beauty  rife — 
With  portent  vast. 

What  of  the  weights  that  drag,  the  ties  that 
bind  ? 
Though  of  the  body  life  shall  take  its  toll, 
We  shall  discuss  the  merits  of  the  soul, 
All  unconfined. 

We  shall  not  hesitate  to  go  our  ways 

Apart,  with  but  the  pressure  of  a  hand — 
Enough  it  is  that  both  shall  understand, 
Through  all  the  days. 


[50] 


IN  LIGHT  AND  SHADOW 

In  turning  Life's  kaleidoscope, 

I  saw  its  figures  run 
In  ardent,  flaming  colors ;  hope 

Shone  through  them  as  a  sun. 

I  saw  bright  faces  come  and  go, 

Alive  with  life's  desire, 
Alight  with  Love's  intensive  glow, 

Thrown  from  Youth's  trembling  fire. 

As  bits  of  colored  glass  they  fell 

Together  and  apart, 
Enacting,  as  beneath  a  spell, 

The  drama  of  the  heart. 

O  shapes  of  shining  symmetry, 
That  stumble,  cling  and  grope, 

You  all  are  wonderful  to  me, 
Through  Life's  kaleidoscope. 


[51] 


A  KISS 

I  never  shall  forget  her  troubled  eyes, 
Nor  that  sweet  look  of  maidenly  surprise 

She  raised  to  me, 
When  I,  swift  darting  as  a  hawk,  leaned  down 
And   lightly   kissed  her   mouth.     She   did  not 
frown — 

But  I  could  see 
The  sudden  color  rip'ning  o'er  her  lips ; 
Then  sable  sorrow  spread  its  brief  eclipse. 

Her  little  sobs,  as  she  leaned  on  my  heart — 
I  feel  them  now,  and  memories  stir  and  start 
Like  sap  that  feels  the  early  vernal  sun ! 
But  Love  and  all  Love's  ways  for  me  are  done. 


She  tore  herself  away  from  my  embrace, 
And  looked,  a  moment,  mutely  in  my  face; 
Then  fled  away  from  me,  with  birdlike  whirr, 
Over  the  fallen  spears  of  pine  and  fir — 
And  all  the  light  of  life  went  out  with  her. 


[52] 


VALENTINE 

I  am  a  sunbeam,  you  are  a  child; 

All  melting  and  sweet  is  the  weather; 
A  breeze  stirs  the  bronze  of  your  hair,  warm 
and  wild, 

And  mingles  our  treasures  together. 

I  fly  from  you  over  the  trees'  jewelled 
heights ; 
You  follow  with  limpid,  soft  laughter, 
And  catch  with  your  baby  hands  leaf-filtered 
lights — 
I  fly,  and  you  ever  come  after. 

I  am  yours  so  divinely — yet  yours  not  at  all; 

I  melt  in  your  eyes'  tender  glowing; 
You  cry  as  I  leave  you  at  sable  nightfall, 

And  both  are  undone  at  the  going. 

But  when  all  is  still,  and  in  slumber  you  lie, 
A-dream  with  our  innocent  blisses, 

I  come  in  a  moonbeam,  and,  lingering  by, 
I  cover  your  red  mouth  with  kisses. 

So  if  you  be  far  or  if  you  be  near, 
I  always  must  hover  above  you; 

Of   all   the  world's    guerdon   to   me   the   most 
dear — 
I  love  you — I  love  you — I  love  you ! 

[53] 


AN  APRIL  WAY 

Just  we  two  on  an  April  day — 

Just  we  two  on  a  violet  way; 

Woods  aglow  with  a  feathery  green, 

Ruby  and  gold  like  fire  between. 

Nay,  is  it  wrong  that  my  heart  is  a-flutter, 

Full  of  a  joy  that  it  may  not  utter? 

Just  we  two  where  the  brook  breaks  over 
Spreading  leaves  of  an  early  clover. 
Glance  of  an  eye,  and  touch  of  a  hand, 
Stir  in  the  boughs,  and  we  understand. 
Life  is  a-thrill  with  a  new-born  beauty — 
Love,  shall  we  garner  its  precious  booty? 


[54] 


A  CHILD'S  KISS 

TO  BEATRICE 

Child   of   the   burnished   gold   and   brown   of 

spring 
Before  the  showers  the  flowers  of  April  bring, 
Child  of  the  pale  and  roseate  hues  of  morn 
Before  'tis  of  its  dew-steeped  sweetness  shorn — 

Child,  in  whose  sunny  smile  and  prattle  seems 
A  mystic  sense  of  undiscovered  dreams, 
There  is  no  holier  sacrament  than  this — 
My  soul  is  chastened  by  thy  stainless  kiss. 


[55] 


TO  A  CHILD'S  SOUL 

O  child,  what  light  stole  out  from  your  soul 
untried, 
And  bade  you  cling  to  my  hand  with  a  stifled 
sob, 
As  if  the  thought  that  our  ways  must  now  di- 
vide 
Stirred  strange  forebodings,  a-thrill  in  your 
wild  heart's  throb? 

In  yonder  home  that  shelters  your  white,  frail 

form 

Is  there  no  soul  to  answer  your  inward  cry, 

That  you  should  rush  on  my  heart  with  tears 

all  warm? 

And  what  of  the  years'  mysterious  prophecy  ? 


[56] 


THE  BOOK  SPIRITS 

I  cannot  be  alone,  with  all  my  books 

To  comrade  me,  and  light  me  on  the  way; 

They   hail   me    from    their   crowded,    shadowed 
nooks, 
And  promise  me  some  treasure  for  the  day. 

It  seems  to  me  that  voices  from  the  past 
Hold  high  converse  about  me,  as  in  dream, 

And  phantoms  luminous  about  me  cast 
An  essence  as  of  sunlight's  April  stream. 


[571 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  MAGDA- 
LENE 


Within  the  Garden  of  the  Princes,  hedged 

With  oleanders,  aloes  and  with  myrrh, 
A  woman  lived,  to  Love's  allurements  pledged, 

For  every  Grace  had  spent  its  wealth  in  her. 
Strong  hands  had  led  her  forward  on  the  way, 

Their  pulses  thrilled  by  an  exotic  madness ; 
It  seemed  the  whole  word  bended  to  her  sway, 

And  she  was  buoyed  by  Youth's  resplendent 
gladness. 
A  prince  who  loved  her  built  a  splendid  hall, 
And  there  she  reigned  the  queen  of  one  and  all. 

The  silken-sandaled  hours  danced  joyously, 
And  brought   her   jewels    rich   and   raiment 
rare; 
Love  held  his  chalice  to  her  lips  that  she 
Should  drain  the  last  sweet  drop  of  rapture 
there. 

But  on  a  morning,  near  the  hour  of  noon, 
When  all  the  land  lay  in  a  golden  swoon, 
A  strong  foreboding  filled  her  with  unrest, 
And  shook  the  jeweled  claspings  on  her  breast. 
A  minstrel  from  the  resonant  psaltery 


[58] 


Struck  forth  the  dominant  seventh,  and  he 
sang 
A  low,  sweet  lay  of  Love,  as  Love  should  be — 

Eternal,  sacrificial.  And  a  pang, 
A  sudden  sense  of  surfeit  and  of  cloy 
Came,  shadowing  the  Magdalene's  joy. 

II 

Along  the  white  road,  through  the  noon-day, 

still 
Save  for  the  drowsing  locust's  droning  thrill, 
Down  from  Bethsaida  passed  a  stranger  fair, 
The  sun's  bright  aureole  upon  His  hair — 
His  raiment  humble,  and  His  feet  were  bare. 

Simply  He  moved,  with  a  majestic  grace, 
While  those  beside  Him  peered  into  His  face, 
Like  little  children  seeking  Truth's  replies 
From  'neath  the  lids  of  those  mysterious  eyes. 

Ill 

"Who  is  yon  stranger?     Bring  him  here — to 

me! 
For  I  am  minded  much  his  face  to  see. 
He  draws  me — draws  me — nay,  I  cannot  wait ! 
The  chamber  stifles  me — throw  wide  the  gate !" 
And  Magdalene  rose  with  sudden  fire, 
Her  soul  consumed  by  palpitant  desire. 
Her  lovers  round  about,  with  quick  alarms, 
Builded  a  bulwark  of  restraining  arms, 

[59] 


Through  which  she  broke,  and  left  them  stand- 
ing there; 
The  sunlight  coppering  her  streaming  hair, 
She  fled,  and  panting  stood  before  the  eyes 
That  held  naught  of  disdain,  nor  yet  surprise. 
She  gazed  and  trembled,  sank  into  the  dust, 
Her  face  aghast  with  sudden,  pallid  shame: 
She  knew  at  last  that  in  Love's  hallowed  name 
She  had  descended  to  the  hell  of  Lust. 


[60] 


WHITE  VIOLETS 

AN  EASTER  MEMORY 

I 

I  could  not  pray  as  I  knelt  me  there 
Before  the  cross,  with  its  burden  fair 

Of  wan  white  lilies,  with  chaliced  cup 
To  the  lips  of  the  Holy  One  held  up! 

I  could  not  pray,  though  the  organ  thrilled 
Out  over  the  altar!     Incense  filled 

The  morning  twilight  of  blue,  still  mist ; 
A  sunbeam,  entering,  softly  kissed 

The  golden  heads  of  the  choir  boys,  bent 
O'er  small,  clasped  hands !     For  my  heart  was 
spent 

In  memory  of  an  Eastertide 

That  gilded  a  Georgia  pine-wood  wide. 

And  somewhere  out  of  the  fragrance  stole 
The  scent  of  violets  over  my  soul ! 

II 

He  was  very  young — his  heart  was  wild 

The  woods  a-flower,  and  the  sweet  Spring  smiled ! 

[61] 


White  soul  of  woman,  forever  lent 
To  draw  man  nearer  his  highest  bent, 

You  led  his  footsteps  out  of  the  mire — 

But  Spring  was  there,  and  your  heart  took  fire ! 

He  gathered  you  suddenly  to  his  breast, 
And  softly  his  lips  to  your  own  lips  pressed ! 

Ill 

White  violets  bloomed,  and  I  faintly  heard 
The  thrill  of  the  mating  mocking-bird, 

Soared  up  in  melodious  unrest, 
Then  sunk  in  joy  to  the  hidden  nest ! 

IV 

It  is  wrong  to  think  of  him  thus,  I  know, 
In  holiness  of  the  Easter  glow ; 

But  gently,  under  the  thorny  crown, 
The  face  of  the  Holy  One  looked  down. 

The  scent  of  the  violet  white  was  there, 
My  heart  still  young,  and  the  morning  fair ! 


[62] 


SUPPLICATION 

Help  me,  Master,  that  I  be 

Guided  in  simplicity ; 

Let  me  live  in  all  I  feel 

When  alone  with  You  I  kneel; 

When  my  soul  is  as  Your  own — 

When   I  hear  Your  placid  tone 

Quieting  a  heart's  distress, 

Soothing  all  its  bitterness, 

Then  through  me,  O  Master,  speak! 

Let  me  touch  the  heart  I  seek. 

When  my  love  is  backward  flung 
As  the  surf  that  boldly  clung 
To  a  bleak  and  barren  rock, 
Shuddering  from  the  seething  shock — 
Let  the  spirit  of  the  Deep 
Through  my  billowy  being  leap, 
And  forgetting  all  the  pain, 
Let  me  surge  with  song  again — 
Let  the  laughing  rollers  break 
Till  the  crags  of  Wrath  shall  quake, 
Crashing  from  the  shores  above, 
Conquered  by  the  tide  of  Love! 
Let  me  warm  the  soul  that's  bleak, 
Let  me  touch  the  heart  I  seek. 


[63] 


RENUNCIATION 

I  sent  you  from  me,  dear,  for  it  was  best ; 
I  sent  you  at  my  heart's  most  high  behest. 
Your  face  has  haunted  me  a-down  the  night, 
Your  eyes  have  held  me  through  the  still  hours' 
flight. 

And  if  I  slept,  you  reached  with  longing  arms, 

In  whispers  wild  poured  forth  your  soul's 
alarms, 

Sobbed  out  your  hungered  heart  in  rapt  un- 
rest— 

I  sent  you  from  me,  dear,  for  it  was  best. 

Then   with   the   moon's    pale   glitter   came   the 

gray— 
A  little  far-off  flush,  and  it  was  day. 
We  shall  recall,  though  Love  has  been  our  guest, 
How  on  that  night  of  nights  we  held  the  quest 

For  all  that  should  mean  truth  to  you  and  me — 
'Twas  then  we  learned  what  sacrifice  may  be. 
You  put  me  gently  from  that  last  embrace — 
All  softened  was  the  passion  of  your  face, 

And  I  could  lay  my  head  upon  your  arm 
Believing  I  was  shielded  from  all  harm ; 
And  then  I  told  you  I  could  stand  the  test — 
In  that  still  hour  you  knew  and  loved  me  best. 

[64] 


O  eyes  that  swam  with  rapture  unattained, 
O  lips  that  burned  and  trembled,  but  refrained, 
We  chose  the  better  way — the  lesser  pain : 
That  kiss  untaken  is  our  dearest  gain. 


T65] 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  DEAD 

I  visited  the  city  of  the  dead — 
The  city  of  the  life  of  long  ago; 

I  saw  as  in  a  dream  each  aging  head, 

I  watched  the  stream  of  shadows  ebb  and  flow. 

I  felt  a  sudden  aching  at  the  heart — 
A  longing  for  the  friends  of  long  ago ; 

What  mystery  had  drawn  us  far  apart? 

The  Sphinx  of  Time,  whose  secret  none  may 
know? 

And  there  was  gray  upon  the  hair  and  face 
Of  many  a  one,  the  while  the  rose  of  youth 

Still  touched  the  dreamer  with  its  ardent  grace, 
And  held  her  loyal  to  the  spring-sweet  truth. 

What  was  it  aged  them,  while  one  had  to  go 
Eternal  girlhood  stamped  upon  her  brow? 

Was  it  some  truth  of  life  they  would  not  know — 
Some  self-dug  chasm  'twixt  the  then  and  now  ? 


[66] 


A  ROSE-LEAF'S  PRESSURE 

I  could  not  think  of  you  as  mine,  and  yet 
My  heart  was  in  a  strange  and  fitful  fret ; 
I  knew  that  you  had  pledged  away  your  faith, 
But  yet  the  thought  of  you  hung  as  a  wraith 
Upon  my  famished  eyes  and  hungered  lips, 
And  tingled  to  my  trembling  finger  tips. 
Strange  that  my  wayward  soul  should  sting  and 

smart — 
Strange    that    a   rose-leaf   should   so   hurt   my 

heart ! 

Your  words  had  stolen  on  me,  sweet  and  slow, 
Almost  with  love,  caressingly  and  low ; 
You  waked  me  gently,  so  I  scarcely  knew 
If  it  were  dream,  or  could  this  thing  be  true. 
I  found  that  I  had  drifted  far  to  sea, 
And  you  upon  the  white  sands,  lost  to  me ! 
Then  I  was  pierced  with  agonizing  dart — 
Strange   that   a   rose-leaf   should   so   hurt   my 
heart ! 

I  cried  aloud,  I  battled  for  the  shore, 

I  threw  me  at  your  feet,  beloved,  once  more ; 

I  crushed  in  mine  your  strong  but  silken  hand, 

I  panted  words  you  could  not  understand; 

Content  no  more  to  bow  beneath  the  rod, 

I  rose  in  radiance,  as  a  raptured  god ; 

[67] 


I  flung  the  fetters  from  my  soul  apart, 
And    pressed    the    rose-leaf    to   my    throbbing 
heart ! 

We  seemed  to  float  afar  in  misty  space — 
I  saw  beneath  my  own  your  paling  face ; 
Your  eyes  were  fixed  in  limpid  light  a-swoon, 
All  sorrowing  as  the  white  impassioned  moon; 
I  knew  our  lips  had  mingled,  but  no  more, 
For  with  a  mighty  wakening,  I  tore 
The  precious  peril  from  my  breast  apart — 
Oh,  take  this  rose-leaf  from  my  burning  heart 

Go  from  me — go !     I  would  not  have  you  be 
Less  than  the  idol  you  have  been  to  me; 
To  warm,  white  womanhood  you  must  be  true — 
No  less  is  worthy,  peerless  one,  of  you. 
One  wild  sweet  thrill  of  rapture  I  have  known, 
And  I  will  bear  my  burden  hence  alone — 
A  fragrant  burden  to  the  world's  sad  mart, 
A  rose-leaf  from  the  ashes  of  my  heart. 


[68] 


PARIS,  GOOD-BYE 

The  waves  have  hurled  our  lost  good-byes 

Afar  upon  the  baffling  deeps ; 

Amidst  their  solemn  echoing  sweeps 
A  stillness   softening  the  eyes, 

With  calmer  musings  of  regret. 
And  yet 

A  lurch,  a  quickening  flight, 

A  fitful  looming  in  the  night 
Has  rent  apart  one  only  tie 
That  bound  your  heart  to  mine — good-bye 

The  gulf  between  is  deep  as  death, 
A  soul  asleep !     If  yours  could  flee 
Through  conquered  space,  and  come  to  me, 

And  touch  my  heart's  web  with  the  breath 
That  'neath  your  radiant  breast  should  lie, 
'Twould  verberate  with  song — good-bye! 

I  wish  the  night  were  not  so  blue; 
If  there  could  come  the  wild  alarm 
Of  thunder,  and  the  forked  storm 

Should  crash  its  justice  over  you — 
If  only  you  might  feel  again 
The  self-stained  soul's  awakening  pain, 

I'd  clasp  and  cling  to  your  first  sigh, 

For  I  might  love  you  then — good-bye! 


[69] 


AFTER  THE  STORM 

The  day  was  dawning,  and  the  sea  was  calm — 
Still  as  a  baby  cuddled  in  its  sleep ; 
Tender  and  pale,  but  oh,  so  deep — so  deep ! 

Singing  the  sky  a  low  and  sorrowing  psalm. 
I  cannot  help  but  know  and  love  you  best 
When  the  glad  Gale  descends  to  your  heaving 

breast, 
Lashing  your  seething  spirit  to  unrest. 

Receive  your  stormy  lover,  mighty  Sea ; 

Nor  strive  against  him  and  his  princely  love. 
He  comes  not  to  you  with  a  slavish  plea, 

But  bears  you  in  his  arms,  below,  above, 
Laughing  to  see  your  grand  soul  struggle  so, 
Shouting,    "She'll    yield    to    me — my    bride,    I 
know !" 

And  yet  you  sent  him  from  your  longing  breast, 
And  lie  in  pure  white  light,  so  still  and  calm, 

A  wealth  of  pain  and  passion  unconfessed, 
Singing    the    sky    a    low-voiced,    sorrowing 
psalm. 


[70] 


THE  SOUL  OF  THE  SNOW 

I  come  with  a  rush  and  whirl, 
With  flutter  and  flurry; 

All  silent  and  soft  I  swirl 
In   my   breathless  hurry. 

I  bury  the  barren  blight 

Of  the  Earth's  cold  anguish — 
I  rest  in  my  frenzied  flight 

Where  the  bare  boughs  languish. 

When  withering  whirlwinds  shriek 

In  their  wrathful  revel, 
Over  perilous  mountain  peak, 

And  the  stubbled  level — 

I  ride   in  their  spirals  curled, 

To  their  own  undoing ! 
I  comfort  the  mourning  world 

With  my  wild,  warm  wooing. 

I  wrap  it  in  dreams  away 

Till  it  stirs  in  sleeping, 
The  thrill  of  the  dawning  day 

Through  its  pulses  leaping! 


[71] 


Then,  lo !  from  a  silent  place 
A  gurgle  and  gushing! 

The  fire  of  my  keen  embrace 
With  a  vernal  rushing 

Up-flames  into  brown  little  buds, 
As  with  laughter  I  flee 

Away  on  the  riotous  floods 
To  my  lover,  the  Sea! 


[72] 


SONG 

Seest  thou  not  how  the  twilight  is  fading 
Far,  into  amber  and  amorous  seas? 

Hearest  thou  evening's  breezes  persuading 
Kisses  from  sorrowing,  whispering  trees? 

Seest  thou  not  that  the  shadows  are  stealing 
Slowly  o'er  mountain  and  meadow  and  sea? 

Hearest  thou  not  silver  vespers  are  pealing, 
Floating  afar  into  faint  meloiiy? 

Let  us  forget  all  the  cares  that  have  bound  us 
Fast  to  the  furrowing  sorrows  of  day, 

Yield  to  the  breeze's  caressing  around  us, 
Yield  to  the  spirit's  empassioning  play. 

Let  us  float  down  the  soft  stream  of  thy  sing- 
ing, 

Minstrel  of  melody,  singer  divine, 
Into  the  region  of  ecstasy  flinging 

Silvery  flights  of  the  dreaming  of  thine. 

Why  should  we  linger  o'er  doubt  or  delaying 
When  the  deep  strain  of  your  rapturous  song 

Over  our  quickening  pulses  is  playing, 

Thrilling  and  luring,  and  lingering  long? 


[73] 


Let  us  float  down  the  soft  stream  of  thy  sing- 
ing, 

Minstrel  of  melody,  singer  divine, 
Till  the  caress  of  my  soul's  silent  clinging 

Maketh  the  throb  of  thine  ecstasy  mine. 


[74] 


SONNET  TO  A  ROSE 

Sweet  rose,  the  fairest  of  all  flowers,  seeming 
In  luxury  of  beauty  to  combine 
The  greatest  virtues  of  all  flowers  divine, 
As  thou'rt  among  thy  fair  companions  beaming, 
My    heart   with   rapturous    throbs   of  love   is 
teeming ! 
Mysterious  rose,  when  first  I  held  thee  mine 
Thou  wouldst  the  donor's  feelings  deep  de- 
fine, 
And  silence  both  our  hearts  into  a  dreaming; 
Then  through  that  fleeting  hour  of  bliss  I 
wore  thee, 
And  reveling  in  thy  perfume  found  delight. 

No  flower  I'll  care  for,  rose,  as  I  adore  thee, 

Though  thou  wilt  fade  ere  yet  I  see  thee  right; 

And  I  must  live,  dear  rose,  and  e'er  deplore 

thee; 

How  brief  thy  bloom — and  then  eternal  blight. 


[75] 


MOONLIGHT  VILLANELLE 

Silver  Cynthia  breaks  the  gloom! 

Bathing  in  her  mystic  light, 
Fragrant  showers  of  roses  bloom. 

Come,  our  wanderings  we'll  resume, 

For,  upon  this  silent  night, 
Silver  Cynthia  breaks  the  gloom ! 

All  the  earth  she  doth  illume, 

E'en  those  nooks,  where,  in  delight, 
Fragrant  showers  of  roses  bloom. 

Shadows  lurk  like  things  of  doom, 
But  in  streams  of  dazzling  white 
Silver  Cynthia  breaks  the  gloom ! 

Come  with  me,  where  weirdly  loom 

Trembling,  shadowy  forms  of  might! 
Silver  Cynthia  breaks  the  gloom — 
Scented  showers  of  roses  bloom. 


[76] 


SONG  AT  NIGHT 

I  wonder  what  your  dream  may  be, 
Dear  Heart,  to-night — of  me? 

I  wonder  if  you  feel  my  touch, 
And  if  you  miss  me  much? 

I  stare  up  at  the  naked  stars — 

It  seems  their  silver  bars 
Withhold  the  vision  of  your  face, 

And  you  from  my  embrace. 

Perhaps  the  starlight  filters  now 

On  your  uplifted  brow ; — 
Oh,  tear  the  dazzling  veil  apart, 

And  rush  upon  my  heart ! 


[77] 


IF  I  SHOULD  COME 

If  I  should  come  and  kiss  you  in  the  night, 

When  all  the  world  in  slumbering  silence  lies, 
O  Dearest,  would  it  wake  you  with  delight — 
If  I  should  come  and  kiss  you  in  the  night? 
And  would  you  start,  and  tremble  in  surprise, 
Uplifting  through  the  dusk  your  wondering 
eyes  ? 
And  would  you  smile,  and  clasp  me  to  your 

breast 
Until    my    cheek   upon   your   own    should 
rest  ? 
O  Dearest,  would  it  wake  you  with  delight, 
If  I  should  come  and  kiss  you  in  the  night? 


[78] 


SPIRIT  OF  FIRE 

Spirit  of  Fire, 

Why  did  you  fan  the  flame  of  my  fleet  desire, 

Quick'ning  my  burning  blood  in   its  ebb   and 

flow, 
Billowing    chaste    unrest    on   your   breasts    of 

snow  ? 
Spirit  of  Fire. 

Dew  of  the  dawn  in  your  eyes'  dark  dreaming 

sleeps, 
Cleft  when  the  wakening  dart  of  passion  leaps 
Forth  in  the  pleading  pulse  of  your  lips,  so 

near 
Ecstasy  strikes  to  my  soul  in  nameless  fear, 
Lest   I    should   clasp   and   crush   you   in   mad 

caress, 
Losing  your  soul  in  Love's  warm  wilderness — 
Spirit  of  Fire. 


[79] 


KISS  ME— YOU! 

Between  my  palms  I  clasp  your  hand 
To  try  to  make  you  understand ; 
I  look  and  look  into  your  eyes 
To  clear  them  of  their  soft  surprise. 
O,  trust  me,  girl  of  dawn  and  dew — 
Kiss  me — you! 

I  am  so  strong  that  in  my  arms 
I  hold  you,  'spite  of  your  alarms! 
I  feel  the  flutter  of  your  heart 
As  of  my  own  it  were  a  part ! 
And  I  am  shaken  through  and  through- 
Kiss  me — you ! 

Your  head  held  on  my  shoulder  so, 
The  wild  warm  roses  come  and  go ! 
Your  scarlet  lips  are  very  near — 
And,  oh,  you  are  so  dear — so  dear! 
Why  should  I  kneel,  and  humbly  sue  ? — 
Kiss  me — you  ! 


[80] 


LOVE  ME  WHILE  YOU  MAY 

They  tell  me  hearts  should  ever  guarded  be, 

In   Spring — soft  Spring, 
When  little  buds  are  greening  hedge  and  tree, 

And  wild  incenses  fling; 
That  Youth's  unfettered  fancies  will  betray 

Some  sweet  enraptured  day ! 
But  dear,  I  feel  the  Heart's  one  treason 
To  turn  from  Love,  and  follow  reason, 
In  springtime's  joyous,  throbbing  season; 

So  love  me — love  me  while  you  may ! 

When  scented  petals  scatter  in  the  wind, 

So  cold — so  cold! 
When  autumn's  gold  and  crimsoned  woods  are 
thinned, 

And  all  the  world  grows   old, 
Then  chilling  Age,  all  pallid,  bent  and  gray, 

Will  come  sweet  Love  to  slay ! 
Ah,  Heart  of  mine,  the  world's  one  treason 
Is  to  turn  from  Love,  and  follow  Reason, 
In  springtime's  joyous,  throbbing  season; 

So  love  me — love  me  while  you  may ! 


[81] 


THE  PASSIONATE  SONG 

Shall  I  He  asleep  through  the  coming  years, 
Or  my  heart  burst  forth  into  passionate  song 
That  has  tortured  and  torn  my  soul  so  long? 

Let  us  bury  the  cowardly  train  of  fears, 
Let  us  banish  the  burning  fangs  of  wrong, 
And,  my  heart,  burst  forth  into  passionate 
song! 

Let  us  fling  the  fetters  of  Fortune's  pawn — 
Let  us  say,  "O  Heart  that  has  starved  so 

long, 
Lo,  Love  shall  waken  your  passionate  song !" 

And  you,  0  Lover,  far  out  in  the  dawn, 

As  you  break  the  clods  on  the  hard,  cold  way, 
Arise  from  your  labors,  and  hear  my  lay, 
And  follow  its  winding  out  of  the  mist 
To  the  peak  of  Joy,  by  the  sun's  rays  kissed. 
We  have  built  the  way  full  brave  and  alone — 
That  day  was  Duty's,  but  this  is  our  own ; 
And  the  night  shall  follow,  how  sweet  and 

long! 
And  our  hearts  burst  forth  into  passionate 

song. 


[82] 


SHALL  WE  DISCOVER? 

When  I  was  a  child,  as  I  leaned  to  the  water, 
That  danced  as  a  nymph  through  the  heart 
of  the  wood, 
I  wondered  what  magic  the  forest  had  taught 
her, 
And  sometimes  believed  that  my  heart  un- 
derstood. 

The  words  that  I  caught,  as  she  whispered  and 

bubbled 

With  sun-dimpled  merriment  over  the  rocks, 

Were  full  of  wild  joy! — but  a  tone  low  and 

troubled 

At  times  broke  the  flow  in  a  series  of  shocks. 

When  music  awakened  me,  sweeping  and  sur- 
ging 
Up  over  my  heart  in  a  wonderful  thrill, 
I  felt,  with  the  fine  throb  of  ecstasy  merging, 
That   low,    troubled   tone,   and   its   ominous 
ohill. 

Dear  Love,  when  I  look  in  your  eyes,  with  their 
splendor 
Of  promise,  a  glory  brims  over  my  life; 
Then    something    strikes    into    the    harmonies 
tender — 
A    pang    with    Love's    delicate    languor    at 
strife. 

[83] 


Dear  Heart,  when  our  love  shall  have  reached 
its  full  measure 
And  all  lesser  things  shall  have  paled  in  the 
past, 
Say,  shall  we  discover  the  infinite  treasure — 
The  wild  song  of  absolute  rapture,  at  last? 


[84] 


A  MAIDEN'S  HEART 

A    maiden's    heart    is    rapt    in    wild,    sweet 
wonder — 
The   birds    and   bees   and   blossoming, 
The  blue  above,  and  billows  booming  under 
Strange    whispers    to    her    untaught    bosom 
bring; 
But  when  the  twilight  hour  begins  to  darken, 

And  crickets  'neath  the  rose-tree  sing, 
Such  yearnings   in   her  young  eyes   lean   and 
hearken, 
That   tears   unbidden   from   their   fountains 
spring. 

"Oh  tell  me,  bird,  swift  winging  to  your  little 
mate. 
What  is  it  stirs  my  breast 
With  such  a  wild  unrest? 
O  Moon,  up-soaring  white  from  heaven's  east- 
ern gate, 
How  soft  your  tender  light 
Enfolds  the  dreaming  night ! 
O  evening  Breeze,  that  whispers  through  the 
wav'ring  trees, 
What  secret  do  you  know 
To  make  them  tremble  so? 
O  Shore,  upon  whose  bosom  break  the  seething 
seas, 
Unseal  to   me — ah,   yield   to  me 
That  mystic  word  of  ecstasy !" 
[85] 


SONG  OF  THE  COQUETTE 

To-day  I  am  so  happy,  the  world  is  all  a-glee, 
A  song  of  joy  is  bursting  from  every  greening 

tree; 
My    raptured    heart    goes    dreaming    a-down 

youth's  summer  sea, 
Because  my  own  true  loved  one  has  plighted 

faith  to  me! 

But    should    the    tempest    gather    to    blacken 

heaven's  blue, 
And  if  my  own  dear  lover  prove  false  instead 

of  true — 
Do  you  think  for  the  untrue  one  I  should  sigh? 
No! — I'd  laugh,  and  get  another — that  would 

I! 

He  clasped  my  trembling  fingers,  he  drew  me 

to  his  breast, 
He  whispered  words  the  sweetest  that  ever  lips 

confessed ! 
Though  years   should  ravage   roses   on  cheeks 

now  fair  to  see, 
He  swore  that  he  forever  would  keep  his  faith 

with  me ! 


[86] 


But  should  he  break  this   moment  of  maiden 

ecstasy, 
And  plight  unto  another  the  love  he  pledged 

to  me — 
Do  you  think  for  the  untrue  one  I  should  sigh? 
No — I'd  laugh  and  get  a  new  one — that  would 

I! 


[87] 


A  CLIMBING  ROSE 

If  I  were  but  a  climbing  rose — 

What  would  I  do  then?     Goodness  knows, 

I'd  climb  up  to  your  window,  dear — 

I'd  climb  and  nod,  and  peep  and  peer ! 

I'd  learn  the  secret  of  that  art 

By  which  you  capture  every  heart! 

I'd  boldly  swing  into  your  room, 

And  fill  it  with  a  sweet  perfume ; 

And  if  you  dared  to  venture  near, 

I'd  reach  right  out  and  kiss  you,  dear! 


[88] 


TO  A  SHY  SWAIN 

Why,  look  you,  Sweetheart,  how  you  limp  and 

halt! 
Your  speeches  fall  and  flounder,  shy  and  vault ! 
Is   Love's   dear   tongue   so   hard,   in   sooth,    to 

learn  ? 
His  tender  graces,  then,  so  hard  to  earn? 
Is  this  the  best  that  you  can  do — ask  whether 
I  really  think  we'll  have  a  change  of  weather? 
Then  sit  in  silence  twirling  at  your  thumbs, 
Or  crush  your  cigarette  up  into  crumbs? 
And  all  the  little  precious  moments  flying — 
And  Love,  disgruntled,  in  the  corner  crying! 


[89] 


INVOCATION  TO  LOVE 

Come  to  me  softly  as  a  summer  shower, 
Veiling  the  ardor  of  the  midday  sun; 

Come  as  the  cooling  breeze  on  budding  bower, 
When  day  is  done. 

Steal  on  my  senses  with  the  kiss  of  sleep, 
Gently  enfold  me  as  the  summer  night, 

Clothing  my  dreams,  through  which  your  heart- 
beats creep 
With  visions  bright. 

Touch  of  the  hand,  and  virgin  touch  of  lips — 
Oh,  hold  them  purer  than  young  April  days ! 

Fresh  as  her  flowers  with  faintly  flushing  tips, 
In  wooded  ways. 


[90] 


THE  HOLY  GRAIL 

Dear  Heart,  we  may  not  know  the  reason  why 
The  cup  of  life  is  brimming  bitter-sweet — 

What  mysteries  within  the  goblet  lie 
To  make  the  cycle  of  a  soul  complete. 

We  shall  remember  when  the  days  have  run — 
We  shall  recall  it  where  the  shadows  fail; 

And  when  we  lift  the  goblet  to  the  sun 
Behold  the  vision  of  the  Holy  Grail. 


[91] 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  264  040    5 


9  r^rTTk. 


